


Clarke Couldn't Freaking Sleep

by fine_feathered_fiend



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Basically they're still at the dropship, F/M, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, My First Fanfic, Season 1 Universe, Sleepy Cuddles, Teasing, blushing bellamy, but Clarke definitely is, embarrassed bellamy, he's not thrilled about it, they're basically just exhausted puppies by the end, well his ears flush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fine_feathered_fiend/pseuds/fine_feathered_fiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke couldn't freaking sleep. Neither could Bellamy. Clarke ends up joining him for a late night conversation, resulting in teasing, talking, sleepy cuddles, and finally getting some rest.</p><p>(aka: Bellamy is blushy and Clarke is cuddly and they're found tangled together in the morning like an exhausted set of puppies by Miller and Jasper, who decide to let their fearless leaders get some sleep.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarke Couldn't Freaking Sleep

Clarke couldn’t freaking sleep. This night had been yet another unsuccessful attempt at getting some much needed rest. Clarke laid impatiently on her pallet, arms folded primly across her stomach, staring up at the roughly hewn fabric that made up her tent. The camp was damn near silent. Not even the all too regular ambience of owls and crickets broke the serene atmosphere. Apparently even the stupid owls and crickets were able to get some sleep. With an irritated huff, Clarke swung herself up from her pallet and began pulling on her boots.

 _You’d think that with all I do around here that I’d be tired enough to get some sleep but noooo, that’d be too easy!_ Clarke grumbled under her breath, accenting every few words with a rough tug of her laces. Shooting one last annoyed glance at the tangle of blankets on her pallet ( _traitors_ ) Clarke pulled on her favorite leather jacket and swept out of her dark, stifling tent, letting the loose flap swing shut behind her. If she wasn’t going to sleep, then she might as well make herself useful. 

A light breeze floated through the campgrounds, lifting hot sweat off the base of Clarke’s neck, freeing her sleep-stuck waves one by one. Out of all the surprises they’d encountered on the ground, the weather had proven to be an unpredictable one. On one hand, there was acid fog, freezing winters, and burning hot summer days that left more than half of the delinquents (Clarke included) with terrible peeling sunburns. But on the other hand, there was rain, warm (not burning) sunlight, and countless soft breezes that just begged for Clarke to stop and enjoy the ground for a moment, just like this one. Sure, the ground had it’s problems, but it was nice to have some deviation from the unwaveringly constant 75 degrees that Clarke had grown so accustomed to on the Ark. Sometimes change could be a good thing.

Clarke mulled over that thought as she patrolled along the inside of the camp’s walls. Was their journey to the ground a good thing? It certainly wasn’t _all_ good, that was for sure. There was pain, there was fear, and there were deaths. Oh, so many deaths. Deaths that still took Clarke’s breath away if she even began to think of them. So she pushed it down and focused on the great task at hand, her one shimmering, shining goal in life that she clung to like a lifeline:

_Please, just let me keep the rest of them safe. Let the rest of them live._

Beyond that, nothing else really mattered. Certainly not something as selfish and time-consuming as getting a solid night’s sleep. She just couldn’t risk the chance of something happening and her not being ready. Not being able to help. Not being able to save them. Weariness and exhaustion wore her down to the bone. She felt it in the way her knees creaked as she paced along the camp’s perimeter and the gritty feeling of sand and dust that seemed to settle behind her eyes more and more as the sleepless nights ticked by. But that didn’t matter. Her number one priority was keeping the hundred safe, her own well-being could wait. It was a burden‒ _no, a responsibility_ ‒ that she carried day in and day out but was lucky enough to not carry alone. Throughout all of her dealings with the ground, she had Bellamy.

There was no doubt in Clarke’s mind that she couldn’t lead without him. But even if she could, she wasn’t so sure that she’d want to. Clarke huffed a laugh at that thought as she passed by the softly crackling fire in the center of camp (they kept it burning at all hours for the light‒ a decision that Clarke greatly appreciated as she worked her way along the camp’s shadowed walls) and circled behind the dropship. As it turned out, there was so much more to Bellamy “Whatever the Hell We Want” Blake than fighting, chaos, and an endless supply of arrogance. Clarke was finally starting to see that, and as a result? Well, let’s just say that she liked _this_ Bellamy a lot more than the original asshole-Bellamy that she knew first. _That_ Bellamy‒

A familiar voice resounded at Clarke’s left, effectively destroying her train of thought, “What’re you doing up?”

Clarke swore violently and spun around to see Bellamy sitting cross-legged against the dropship, “Jesus Christ, Bellamy‒” she clapped a hand to her chest, glaring down at his amused expression, “‒you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, Princess.” He grinned. “What’re you doing up?

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d do a quick walk around the camp. Make sure that everything was okay.” She replied indignantly, straightening her jacket.

Bellamy’s eyebrow cocked upwards at her statement, “Without a gun?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, _Of freaking course Bellamy brings up guns. Why can’t I walk around camp one time‒ okay, maybe more than one time‒ without a rifle strapped to my back?_ “I don’t need a gun, Bellamy, I’m staying inside the walls.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes back, “They’re just walls, Clarke. I know they’re pretty damn good but do you _really_ think they’d stop a full-blown Grounder attack?”

Clarke glanced down at the rifle balanced across his lap, “Do you?”

Bellamy pursed his lips into a flat line and locked eyes with Clarke for a moment, doubt permeating his expression. Clarke tried to ignore the sudden rise in her heart rate. _He’s just looking at you, Clarke. Calm the fuck down._ Bellamy broke his gaze and sighed wearily, shifting his rifle to the ground, “I don’t know. I hope so‒” He thumped back against the dropship, “‒but I just don’t know.”

Clarke plopped down next to Bellamy and sighed, resting forward against her knees. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”

Bellamy forced a scandalized gasp, “But I thought the brave princess knew everything!” He teased half-heartedly, unable to fully cloak the genuine worry behind his tone.

“ _Almost_ everything.” Clarke corrected, “Even princesses have their flaws, Bellamy.”

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her chest. _Did he just‒_ She looked over to see Bellamy staring straight ahead, completely silent, the tips of his ears quickly turning an unmistakable shade of bright red.

 _He totally did._ Clarke’s pulse thrummed rapidly against her ribcage, the nerves in her fingertips pulsing wildly to the same beat. She took a slightly shaky breath and smiled coyly at Bellamy anyway, taking pride when his ears flushed even deeper. “Is that so?” She questioned.

His mouth hung open, “I‒ well‒” Bellamy stammered, embarrassment devastating his expression.

Clarke’s heart soared.

“I mean, you’re always bragging about what you know‒” Bellamy’s brow creased as he soldiered along, gesturing vaguely in a poor attempt to solidify his argument, “‒it’s just‒ you know you’re really arrogant sometimes‒”

Clarke nodded along, unable to stop the wide grin that spread across her face.

Bellamy sighed in defeat, hands dropping into his lap. He shot her a defensive look. “I know you’re not perfect, Clarke.”

“Alright,” Clarke held her hands up in a placating gesture, “I believe you.”

He grunted sullenly, training his gaze back on the wall.

“Though it _would_ be nice if someone _finally_ acknowledged my overwhelming genius.” Clarke shrugged in mock dismay. “I mean‒ come on, Bellamy. I think it’s about time.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes so hard that Clarke thought they might fall out of his head. “Shut up.” He grumbled.

“Okay, okay.” Clarke conceded. “Sorry?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows ticked upward at her apology, and he tilted to look at her for a moment. A half-smile touched his expression before he gave a small, but genuine, laugh and leaned back against the dropship. “Don’t worry about it, Princess.”

Clarke let herself relax into the cool metal surface and stretched her legs out in front of her, “Okay.” She promised.

And she really did try not to worry. 

* * *

They stayed that way for a long time. Propped against the dropship, both letting the hours tick by as they watched the tree-line for anything unusual. They didn’t talk much, but they didn’t need to. Bellamy and Clarke shared a comfortable silence, something she’d sorely missed since arriving on the ground. Down here, silence was a warning. The quiet before the storm. An indication that something was about to go terribly and horribly wrong.

But this? Clarke could get used to this. She felt Bellamy’s comforting presence just inches from her own, even when her eyes would drift shut for a few moments before snapping open once again. He was still there. He was always there. Clarke leaned softly against Bellamy’s side, too tired to care if she was overstepping whatever ridiculous boundaries she might’ve set for herself. She felt Bellamy freeze for a moment before relaxing gently into Clarke, warmth permeating through his jacket.

Clarke sighed, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “Hey, Bellamy?” she murmured, eyes half-shut.

He hummed softly, just as tired as she was.

“Do you think that we’ll make it? That we’ll actually survive on the ground?” she mumbled through her exhaustion, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Bellamy was quiet for a long moment, drowsily considering her question. “I hope so.” he finally breathed. A heavy sigh escaped him and they relaxed deeper into one another. “I really hope so.”

Clarke pressed her nose into Bellamy’s jacket and finally let her eyes slide shut. “Me too.” she murmured, feeling herself drift further and further from consciousness. And in that moment Clarke distantly noted that, for the first time in a long, _long_ time, she finally felt safe. 

* * *

When Miller found them the next morning, they were a tangled mess, lying together in a pile of leaves behind the dropship.

Bellamy had sprawled out haphazardly on his back, one arm thrown above his head and the other around Clarke, who was snuggled firmly into his side. His nose was pressed softly into Clarke’s hair, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that it ended up covering most of his face in the process. One of Clarke’s arms had worked its way underneath Bellamy’s jacket and t-shirt, both of which she clutched with an iron grip. Her head rested on Bellamy’s chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. Their legs were tangled hopelessly together, somehow causing Clarke to shed her left boot, which sat propped against the metal dropship, three feet away from the exhausted duo. Twigs and leaves littered both Clarke and Bellamy’s equally wild curls, officially completing their disheveled appearance.

Jasper rounded the corner of the dropship, throwing one last glance over his shoulder, “Hey, Miller have you seen Cl‒”

Miller waved his hands wildly at the younger boy, stopping him dead in his tracks. Jasper’s eyes flicked towards the exhausted co-leaders, widening with surprise. “What happened to them?” he hissed quietly, glancing up at Miller.

“I don’t know.” Miller whispered back.

The two boys froze as Clarke shifted in Bellamy’s arms, nuzzling deeper into his chest. Bellamy let out a gentle sigh and tucked his nose further into Clarke’s loosely tangled curls.

Jasper looked up at Miller, “I really don’t want to be the one that has to wake them up.” he quipped softly, only partially joking.

Miller shook his head, “I don’t think we _should_ wake them up. God knows they need the sleep.”

“That’s for sure.” Jasper nodded in agreement, and the two boys slid quietly around the dropship to spread the news: Clarke and Bellamy were _finally_ getting some much needed rest and were not to be disturbed under any circumstances. The statement went without objection. All of the delinquents agreed: their fearless leaders had more than earned a day off.

So Clarke and Bellamy remained behind the dropship for several more hours, curling into one another as the soft light of spring warmed the earth around them. As Clarke slowly began to wake, she thought about the world that they lived in and all that they’d been through. The people that they’d lost. The horrors that they’d encountered. The terrible things that they had yet to face.

Truth be told, the ground was far from perfect, and it was doubtful that fact would ever change. But as she regained her senses one by one, she was reminded that there were good things too. She felt gentle sunlight warming her face. She heard the sound of trees rustling with the breeze. The rich earthy scent of pine-needles flowed all around her. It really _was_ beautiful.

And as she opened her eyes to see the gently sleeping boy in her arms, Clarke decided that the ground wasn’t _all_ bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! This is my first ficlet that I've ever written, so any comments and/or constructive criticism is much appreciated :)
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing friend Reza for encouraging me to write this ficlet and helping me throughout the editing process. You're amazing!!! <3


End file.
